Just One More Dance
by Tyranusfan
Summary: Time has never been on Steve's side. Part 10 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes." Rated T to be safe.
_Part 10 of "The Search for Bucky Barnes."_

 _Set after the earlier pieces in this series: "Visiting Hours," "Breaking the Leash," "Chasing Ghosts Part I," "Inseparable," "168 hours," "Realists," "Chasing Ghosts, Part II," "Sparring, and "I'll be Home for Christmas"_

 _Takes place two months after "I'll be Home for Christmas."_

 _With the events of 'Age of Ultron,' this series is now completely AU, but since the basic lineup of these stories was set up a year ago after 'Winter Soldier,' there's not much to be done about it._

 _Special thanks to geminigrl11. I own nothing._

 **Just One More Dance**

 _Office of Dr. Tanis Nieves_ _New York City_ _February 18, 2016_

"How do you feel about it?"

James looked up at her from where he'd been staring at the floor. He shrugged. "I don't know."

"All right."

James frowned, feeling the need to explain. "I'm not dodging the question, Doc. I just...I don't know."

She smiled at him sadly. "I didn't think you were. This is difficult, I know."

"Part of me feels like...this was bound to happen. It's natural," he said slowly. "But, another part feels like I've lost something."

Nieves just nodded.

"I mean, I should feel bad for _Steve_. Not myself. It feels kind of...selfish."

"It isn't." Nieves replied. "It's normal. This is another reminder of how much time has passed, and how much of that time you lost."

James nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, exactly..."

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

 _Outskirts of Lyon_

 _Southern France_

 _September 4, 1944_

"Ghormley get here yet?" Steve asked as he climbed the last few steps into Bucky's makeshift lookout position in the bell tower.

Bucky lowered his binoculars, brow furrowed. "Not yet. They said he's held up a few miles south. The roads are blocked."

Steve huffed. "I can believe that."

The town was in shambles. The Commandos had been called in to try and cut off the Germans' headlong evacuation out of Southern France—or at least slow it enough for regular Army divisions to catch up—but they'd been unsuccessful. With the German occupation forces preoccupied with saving their own skins, the French Resistance had launched a full on assault on the town's contingent of Milice—the Vichy government's secret police. The resulting street-to-street fighting had left most of the factory district a burning disaster area. Steve's group had parachuted into a raging firefight and, for once, hadn't achieved a single objective.

To make matters worse, when the 45th Infantry had arrived to liberate the town, the locals had erupted in celebration, blocking already barely passable streets and slowing the Army's progress to a crawl. Most of the German forces escaped in the confusion, although 2000 were still captured. Not a bad haul, but a frustrating setback nonetheless.

"Maybe we should go find him, instead," Steve suggested.

Bucky slung his rifle over his shoulder and shrugged. "Sure. Meet him halfway at least."

As they descended the stairs, Steve glanced back. "You've been quiet."

Bucky had barely spoken all day. It wasn't like him.

"Just tired."

Steve slowed as they entered the main hall of the church, so that he was in step with his friend. "You sure?"

Bucky chuckled softly at that. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm tired. Not all of us have super-stamina."

Steve tilted his head. "Well—"

"Super-strength..."

"Yeah, but—"

"Super-speed..."

"But—"

"Super-sleeping—"

"Shut up already!"

Bucky grinned. "Thought I was being too quiet?"

Steve grimaced and elbowed him in the ribs. They rounded up Dum Dum and the others and exited the church. Joyous locals mixed with Maquis freedom fighters, still celebrating the liberation of the town, clogged the narrow streets.

They threaded their way through the throng, though as Captain America was recognized, that task grew much more difficult. Steve's fame had penetrated even the Atlantic Wall into Nazi-occupied France, much to his chagrin. Bucky, on the other hand, had been enjoying it. _What's not to like? Standing next to a movie star makes it easier to get girls_.

There was sadness mixed in with the frivolity, however. Locals displaced out of their homes by the hostilities. Resistance fighters, far from home and unable to get back. Not everyone was celebrating. There was little that could be done about it, though, until the Germans were completely ejected from France, and that day hadn't yet arrived.

Leading the Commandos through the crowds, Steve noticed a man dressed in civilian clothing paralleling their course. He was clearly following them and getting closer, but Steve saw no apparent weapon and he didn't seem too threatening.

As they reached an intersection, the man abruptly turned and moved to intercept them before they crossed the jam-packed street. Bucky quickly—and unnecessarily, though Steve wouldn't mention that—stepped up so that he was between the incoming man and Steve. "Whoa, hey! Watch it, pal."

The man held up his hands in surrender, glancing from Steve to Barnes and back, a bit desperately. Steve tapped Bucky's shoulder, motioning him to let the man speak, only to be frustrated when the man let loose with a barrage of rapid fire French. Steve had been learning some basics from Dernier, but this was still too fast for him to follow. He turned and got Jacques' attention.

Steve picked up a little of what was discussed, but still waited for Dernier to explain. Finally, after four exchanges with the man, Dernier turned to Gabe and spoke for several moments. Even after almost ten months of trading French lessons for English lessons with the Commandos, Dernier found it easier to use Gabe as a translator for long, complex discussions.

Gabe turned to Steve. "Says his name is Rémy. He's a Maquis fighter who got stranded here and needs to get home to find his parents."

"Where's home?" Bucky asked.

Dernier answered. "Toulon. He says his fiancée was killed in an air raid last month, and he doesn't know if his parents made it out."

Steve frowned. It was a tragic story, but they didn't have any means of transport themselves. The plane they'd arrived in hadn't landed. He tried to explain as much to Rémy in rudimentary French. The man erupted in speech again.

"He's desperate Cap. Says he has to get home. His parents are all he has left." Gabe translated. "He says he heard you're the man with a plan, and can do just about anything. He says he can pay."

"I don't want his money," Steve said, sighing inwardly. Gabe relayed that.

He glanced at Bucky, who had a glint of mischief in his eyes. No doubt, he was already filing away that bit about the Man with a Plan to tease Steve with later. To Gabe, Steve held up a hand. "Give us a minute."

He pulled Bucky aside by the elbow, stopping outside of Rémy's earshot. "Buck—"

"Stevie," Barnes groaned. "We can't help everybody."

"I know. I know, Buck, but..."

Barnes shook his head. "You make an exception for one, and every Joe with a sob story will be beating down your door. And we are fighting a _war_ , here, you know."

Steve glanced back at the hapless Frenchman. "Yeah. Yeah."

They rejoined the others. Steve glanced around them at the reveling crowds. Bucky was right, of course. He couldn't do anything and everything he wanted. He had his duty. Still, he knew what it was like to lose his parents...

"Dum Dum, you guys go on ahead and see if you can find Ghormley," Steve ordered.

"Sure thing." Dugan replied, rounding up the rest of the group. _No need for them to get in trouble for this_ , Steve thought. He motioned for Gabe and Dernier to stay behind.

"Gabe, you and Dernier go to the 45th's HQ and track down Sergeant Casey. He owes me a favor. There are supply convoys going back and forth between here and the coast every day. He can squeeze Rémy onto one of the empty trucks."

Gabe just barely concealed a small grin and saluted casually. "You got it, Cap."

Rémy seemed overjoyed when these details were explained to him, and as they started to lead him away, he thrust a small box into Steve's gloved hands.

"Hey, I told you I don't—" Steve protested, but it was too late. Rémy and the others had already melded into the crowd.

"You are such a softy, Rogers," Bucky needled. "What he give ya?"

"I dunno," Steve said, turning the small box over before opening it. His eyes widened when he saw inside.

Bucky whistled softly from over Steve's shoulder. "Geez, look at that rock!"

The box contained a diamond ring, more than likely intended for the fiancée Rémy claimed to have lost. Steve frowned. "I can't keep this."

"I don't think he's giving you any choice," Bucky replied.

"I can't keep it," Steve repeated. "This is too much."

"Give me it," Bucky said, snatching the box out of his hand.

"What are you going to do with it?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I'm going to go see if I can find Rémy and give it back to him. If I can't...I'll find some place to keep it safe."

Steve frowned again. "Safe?"

"Well, Lord knows you'll lose it."

"No, I won't—"

"Besides," Bucky continued. "If you _do_ end up keeping it, the Best Man is supposed to hold the ring."

Steve laughed at the suggestive waggle of Bucky's eyebrows. "Getting a little ahead of things, aren't you?"

"Please, you don't think I can see where this thing with you and Carter is going?"

Bucky nudged him to get him moving again, and they worked their way through the mob. Steve hated to admit it, but his friend had gotten the wheels in his head turning.

" _If_ I keep it," he said cautiously. "Do you think she'd like it?"

 **CAP WS CAP WS CAP WS**

 _Present Day_

James moved silently into place at Steve's left shoulder. He didn't need to be stealthy, but it was a hard habit to break. The chilly breeze rustling the grass of the cemetery was unwelcome. He pulled his coat tighter. Steve didn't seem affected by it, for once. James wondered if he felt the cold at all.

His presence went unacknowledged at first, but he knew it had been noticed. Unsure of anything he could possibly say to ease his friend's pain, he opted to simply reach up with his flesh and blood hand and squeeze the other man's shoulder.

Steve, who hadn't moved up until that moment, reacted to the contact, releasing a shuddering breath. He leaned into James' hand.

"I'm sorry, Stevie," James said simply. He was. For once, he longed for the Winter Soldier's unfeeling detachment.

It took a moment for Rogers to muster up the strength to speak, and when he did, his voice cracked ever so slightly. "I was going to marry her, Buck. You remember?"

James nodded. "I do." He remembered dark nights and long pre-dawn hours on watch while the commandos slept, Steve whispering about how he was going to propose when the war finally ended. Except, the war never ended for _them_ , not really. The world just moved on while they were on ice, and time passed them both by.

He remembered a ring, but he couldn't remember what he'd done with it. He'd been trying to remember for days, but nothing was forthcoming. It didn't seem to matter anymore.

They'd gotten word from Sharon the week before. Peggy had taken a turn for the worse. The doctors hadn't held out any hope for improvement, and in the end they were proven correct. _It was just time_ , they'd said.

James was starting to hate Time.

A surprising number had turned out for her official funeral. Former world leaders, statesmen, dignitaries from all over. The former and longest serving Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. held a legacy and a fascination that even the agency's terrifying implosion couldn't tarnish.

Sharon had hosted a smaller service for those closer to her. Steve, James, Stark—standing in for his late father—Peggy's children, Hank Pym and a select few others. Even Nick Fury had made a quiet appearance.

But, whatever feelings of loss or pain most of those people experienced paled in comparison to Steve's. Peggy's death had hit him hardest of all. He'd been in a kind of daze for the past week. Lost in the past, James assumed. It was hard not to get lost like that himself. But, he'd buoyed himself by making himself useful. He had taken over Steve's day to day activities, making sure his friend ate and slept, screening phone calls. James could do that much, even if his ability to provide emotional support fell short.

Steve hadn't moved from his place since the end of the private funeral service. Pepper and Jane had taken Sharon back to her apartment to pack. She'd be spending a few days in New York. Stark had left Happy behind to transport them.

James glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky, and moved his hand up to squeeze the back of Steve's neck. "It's getting dark."

Steve just nodded.

James pulled gently, finally nudging his friend into motion. He angled them away from the polished headstone and toward the waiting car.

"Time to go home, pal."

END

A/N: _Henry "Combat" Casey was a soldier in Marvel's "War Combat" comics back in the early 1950s. He served in Europe in WWII and later Korea._


End file.
